For someone with little wilderness survival experience like Lei Jin, navigating this vast, untamed jungle without getting lost was no easy feat. Clear days with the sun or nights with the North Star were manageable, but overcast skies or snowstorms left him fumbling blindly.

It was the sixth day of his solo journey. By noon, the north wind had whipped up a blizzard, turning the forest into a silent, silver-white world in no time. The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath his feet, his footprints quickly swallowed by fresh powder. His legs ached, and the gray sky made it impossible to gauge the time. Exhausted, he stopped beneath a tree that offered minimal shelter, brushing snow from his hat and scarf before crouching to rest. He scooped a handful of snow into his mouth, the meltwater chilling him to the core. Though he had no appetite, he forced down a few bites of spicy dried meat, the cold and spice churning his stomach uncomfortably. Resigned, he carefully counted out two rock fruits from his dwindling supply, cracking them open with a stone. Back home, he’d only appreciated their sweetness—now, he valued their energy-boosting properties.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Faint sounds of struggle echoed intermittently around him. Not daring to rest long, Lei Jin pushed himself up once he regained some strength. Scraping snow from the tree trunk, he checked for moss—one of the few survival tricks he knew: moss grew thickest on the north side of trees in dense forests. Confirming his direction, he trudged westward.

As darkness fell, he still hadn’t found shelter. Would he have to spend another night curled against a random tree? But tonight, the snow was relentless. This journey had truly hammered home how difficult wilderness survival was. With Xiya and Moya, they’d always found caves and never worried about food. When he first arrived in this world, Mingya had been by his side, with Xiya and Moya secretly watching over him. Now, he was truly alone.

Ahead loomed a mountain—impossible to cross tonight. Knowing higher elevations meant colder temperatures, Lei Jin resolved to find a windbreak at the base. But after scouring the cliffs, not even a crevice large enough to squeeze into presented itself, let alone a cave.

Barely suppressing the urge to scream into the void, Lei Jin knew he needed proper rest and a fire tonight. His body heat was draining fast—if he didn’t freeze to death by morning, he’d collapse soon after. Frustration mounting, he kicked a nearby tree in frustration—only to stumble forward as his foot met no resistance. Snow and debris gave way, revealing a deep hollow within the trunk. Lei Jin leapt back, wary of hibernating predators, but no movement came from the darkness. With night fully fallen, he couldn’t see inside. Cautiously, he lit an oil-soaked torch from his basket and tossed it in. The flame illuminated most of the hollow—apparently empty. But as he leaned in, four tiny red eyes glinted from above, followed by the rush of dark wings.

“The hell—?” Lei Jin dodged, but not fast enough. Razor-sharp claws tore through his shoulder.

Already drained by cold and hunger, the attack ignited a surge of adrenaline. When the creatures dove again, he lunged inside, snatching the torch to swing at them. They shied from the flames but refused to leave, harassing him until they finally vanished into the night, conceding the hollow to its stubborn new occupant.

The tree’s interior was dry, though sticky black residue coated the floor. Lei Jin cleared it with branches, piled snow to half-block the entrance, and lit a fire. He knew the risks of flames in a forest at night, but freezing took priority over hypothetical dangers.

The dried meat was rock-hard. After warming snowwater in a bamboo tube, Lei Jin curled up in the hollow and slept.

By morning, only two hand-widths of the entrance remained uncovered.

Emerging, Lei Jin found the snow lighter but still falling. Not far in, the ground felt odd underfoot. Kicking aside snow revealed dozens of dead bats—rodent-faced, razor-clawed, each larger than a goose.

“Ugly.” Likely last night’s assailants. But why so many corpses here? Shrugging, he pressed on.

Seven days alone, plus seventeen on the grassland and sea—twenty-four days total. Twenty-one remained until year’s end.

Beyond the mountain lay a flat snowfield. Only after crossing most of it did Lei Jin realize his mistake: this wasn’t land, but a frozen river. The crackling of thin ice confirmed it. Despite caution, the fragile surface fractured relentlessly. Lan Qi’s pearl made him waterproof, not coldproof. Flailing in the icy water, his limbs grew numb, his movements sluggish.

Why was his face wet? Did the dead feel? These were Lei Jin’s first thoughts upon waking.

“Lei Jin! Mingya was wrong! Mingya shouldn’t have stayed so far away! Lei Jin, wake up!” A rough tongue licked his face incessantly.

“Awake.” Groggy, Lei Jin opened his eyes to Mingya’s tear-filled ones. The boy’s lips trembled before he burst into sobs.

“You wouldn’t wake up! You don’t want Mingya anymore!” Mingya accused.

“I’m fine now.” Lei Jin patted his cheek, noting how the once-glossy silver fur had dulled, crisscrossed with fresh scars. “Where’s Lan Qi?”

“Gone back to the sea. But you’re okay now!” Mingya wiped his face, nuzzling Lei Jin’s neck, his blue eyes bright with relief.

That bastard Lan Qi! Tasked with returning Mingya, he’d abandoned him in the jungle instead. Mingya had never traveled alone—who knew what he’d endured?

“Did you eat these past days?”

“Yes! The rabbits you left! Mingya carried them!”

“Idiot.” Those few rabbits wouldn’t have lasted Mingya a single meal. How had he survived a week?

Mingya licked Lei Jin’s collarbone apologetically. Lan Qi had warned that discovery meant being sent away, so he’d trailed from a distance, too worried to hunt lest danger strike in his absence.

“Mingya ate it sparingly!” He beamed, snuggling closer.

“Where’d these injuries come from?” Lei Jin fought down rising anger.

“Mingya was clumsy.” His ears twitched—a telltale lie. The whole family knew this.

Truthfully, Lei Jin had suspected something. Winter meant hibernation, but encountering zero predators in a week was suspicious. Yet finding no trace of Mingya, he’d chalked it up to luck.

Turns out, the fool had followed stealthily all along.

“Do you even understand what I’m doing? I’m leaving—for good. Don’t think this’ll change my mind.” His resolve to return home was unshakable.

“Mingya knows. But Mingya promised to protect you.”

“Why are you such an idiot?” Lei Jin groaned.

“Mingya isn’t stupid!” His papa said Mingya was very smart.

“You are.” Covering Mingya’s mouth, Lei Jin ended the debate.

Mingya pouted mutinously but didn’t dare move.

“Where are my clothes?” The odd sensation of fur against bare skin made Lei Jin realize their position: he was naked, pinned beneath a giant white leopard.

“You were so cold! Mingya couldn’t warm you, so Mingya took them off.” He gestured to the discarded pile nearby—underwear on top.

As Lei Jin shifted, the heat pressing against his hip grew unmistakable. His face darkened.

They were in a small, windless cave, warmed by a fire. A natural stone platform served as their bed, lined with Mingya’s fur coat.

“Don’t be mad. Mingya is sorry. But Mingya was worried.” Mistaking Lei Jin’s tension for anger at being followed.

“Get my clothes.” Lei Jin forced calm. This position was dangerously familiar. It awakened a not so pleasant memory.

“Still cold?” Mingya’s paws roamed freely.

Lei Jin ignored the wandering limbs with a noncommittal hum, urging haste.

“Clothes are cold too.” Mingya scratched his tangled fur, then brightened. “Mingya knows! If Lei Jin sweats, he’ll warm up!”

Dread prickled Lei Jin’s scalp. Mingya’s “solution” would be disastrous.

“Don’t you dare—” He tried to rise, but Mingya held him fast.

“Don’t move! Mingya feels… weird.” His hind legs tightened around Lei Jin’s thighs.

“Then let go!” Lei Jin smacked the paws pinning him.

“It hurts!” Mingya’s eyes welled up.

Lei Jin glared, torn between exasperation at Mingya’s grief and his own softness. Relenting, he stilled.

Seizing the opening, Mingya pinned Lei Jin’s wrists and began licking his chest.

Lei Jin squirmed, but the raspy tongue trailed relentless, teasing his skin into hypersensitivity.

“Stop, Mingya.” His breath hitched, body betraying him with rising heat.

“You’ll be warm soon.” Mingya panted, nibbling a a red nub.

“Lower…” Resigned, Lei Jin shut his eyes. If he was leaving anyway, one last indulgence wouldn’t matter.

Obediently, Mingya lapped at his navel before taking him into his mouth. Untrained but eager, the rough tongue stroked and sucked until Lei Jin became hard.

Lei Jin felt dizzy and his body became hotter and hotter until he turned into a ball of jelly and he no longer had the strength to resist.

Mingya let go of Lei Jin’s hand, grabbed his legs, spread them apart and put them on his shoulders. He then lowered his head and concentrated on tending to that place. Lei Jin panted and moaned, his body, which was lightly sweaty, was stained with a deep, alluring flush, so seductive it was hard to take one’s eye away.

The wet, rough tongue quickly slid across the tip.

“Ngh…” Lei Jin’s body twitched, and he arched his neck, making a pleased sound. He looked up at the cave with a dazed look and immediately came.

He knew in his heart that they couldn’t go on, but his body was too weak to say the words to stop it.

The opening and closing of the warm and soft entrance between the two buttocks attracted Mingya’s attention, reminding him of that time back in the temple, and his body began to heat up.

Unable to control himself, he turned Lei Jin over and licked him from his neck to the pink area between his buttocks. Having orgasmed once, Lei Jin felt very sore and weak, so he decided to let him have his way until he had enough.

Mingya pulled up a piece of clothing and threw it down, making Lei Jin kneel on the ground with his upper half bent over the bed and his buttocks naturally tilted back. He felt Mingya’s rough tongue sliding in, circling and nibbling, and Lei Jin twisted his waist to cooperate with his penetration, an unstoppable delightful numbness surging up from his lower half.

When the slicked hole relaxed, Mingya withdrew his tongue, lining himself up.

As the blunt tip pressed in, Lei Jin’s fogged mind jolted clear. He twisted away. “No. We can’t.” He couldn’t risk another accident.

“But Mingya hurts.” Shifting humanoid, Mingya pouted.

“What now?” Lei Jin rubbed his temples. In this form, Mingya’s injuries stood out starkly—fresh scratches on his face, worst of all a livid, half-healed gash across his lower abdomen, as if torn by claws.

While Lei Jin was glaring, Mingya could no longer resist pouncing. He parted Lei Jin’s thighs and then moved to thrust in.

But Lei Jin was firm this time that there must not be another accident. Mingya could only settle for the second best and rut between Lei Jin’s buttocks, allowing a large amount of pre-cum to to soak their lower halves.

The light in the cave gradually dimmed. Through the firelight, one could vaguely see two entangled and undulating figures moving in sync, moans and musk thick in the air.

Afterward, sweat-drenched and sated, they washed with warmed water. And indeed, they could no longer feel the cold. If it was Xiya or Moya, Lei Jin would have wondered if they did it on purpose, actually thinking to warm up like this. But an airhead like Mingya?

Lei Jin dressed Mingya’s wounds, listening to his account of the past week’s battles—the distant clashes Lei Jin had heard weren’t illusions, but Mingya protecting him from the shadows.

“Don’t leave Mingya again,” the boy pleaded at bedtime, still worried.

“En.” Lei Jin agreed.

Yet come dawn, he found Mingya drowsing but stubbornly awake—too afraid to sleep.

Defeated, Lei Jin stepped outside to discover they’d taken refuge behind a frozen waterfall near where he’d fallen through the ice. Since driving Mingya away was impossible, he might as well keep him close—safer than letting him stalk unseen.

With Mingya’s help, they flew over snowbound forests, reaching the forbidden area in eight days. Roger had described it: ruins of grand structures, the largest resembling their tribe’s temple, with the Door of Reincarnation at its heart.

But thick fog obscured everything. Forced to land, they searched for an entrance through waist-high weeds.

Just as Lei Jin considered forging his own path, a hoarse cackle sounded behind them: “Forty years since a female last came here.”

“Human or ghost?” Lei Jin recoiled. Who’d live in such a place?

Mingya pulled him close protectively.

A gaunt, black-cloaked figure emerged, face shrouded but for piercing blue eyes. “You’re from that world too, aren’t you? The last one had black hair and eyes like yours.”

Lei Jin started. “Someone came forty years ago? Did he leave?”

The old man eyed Mingya and chuckled. “Left, left.” Shaking his head, he turned away.

“How?” Lei Jin grabbed his arm—the skin felt cold and stiff as wood—then recoiled.

Unfazed, the figure pointed at Mingya. “Step over his corpse.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Bullshit.” Lei Jin scowled. “Why are you cursing him for no reason?”

“His death, or your departure. Enter, and you must choose.” With that prophecy-like statement, the figure vanished into the weeds.

“Ghosts and nonsense.” Shaking off unease, Lei Jin led Mingya forward into the mist.

If you would like to show some ♡  then please consider supporting this translator! ლ(⌒εー)ლ

Life at sea was truly unbearable.

Huddled ungracefully on the back of a beluga whale, Lei Jin couldn’t help but think this—especially in the dead of winter. The ocean waves were rough, and though the blizzard had stopped, the temperature showed no sign of rising. The sun overhead was nothing more than a decoration, going through the motions without the slightest intention of providing warmth.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

Lei Jin exhaled into his cupped hands, rubbing them together. No matter how many layers he wore, the cold still seeped into his bones, sharp as needles. His breath fogged white in the air, and he half-expected it to freeze into ice shards and clatter to the ground.

Mingya circled overhead, never straying far. Seeing Lei Jin’s discomfort, he folded his wings and landed, pressing his warm body against Lei Jin’s back before lifting a wing invitingly. At this point, Lei Jin had no energy left for pride. He twisted around and burrowed into Mingya’s embrace, clinging shamelessly to the living furnace. Who could refuse such warmth, especially when reduced to a shivering icicle? Mingya wrapped his wings tightly around him.

Finally, Lei Jin felt somewhat alive again. He rubbed his itchy nose and let out an enormous sneeze.

“Lei Jin, hugging me will keep you warmer.” Mingya nuzzled the top of Lei Jin’s head with his large muzzle, heart aching at the sight of him burrowing deeper into his fur. Thank goodness I came along. What would he have done without me?

“Yeah, hugging you now.” As a grown man, it was a bit embarrassing to cling to someone else for warmth. But this was Mingya—they were close enough that it shouldn’t matter, right? After a brief internal struggle, Lei Jin quickly made peace with it. Familiarity really does make things easier.

Mingya’s plump front paws patted Lei Jin’s back gently.

Though reluctant to leave the warmth, once the numbness in his limbs began to fade, Lei Jin pushed at Mingya. “Alright, I’m not cold anymore. You should get up.”

He was lucky—Lan Qi had given him a glowing blue pearl to swallow that protected him from the seawater. But Mingya wasn’t so fortunate. The whale cut through the waves, icy spray drenching Mingya’s fur within minutes. Lei Jin had tried asking Lan Qi for another pearl, but the merman had not only refused but rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering something about the pearl not being “something you pick up off the ocean floor” and how Lei Jin was lucky to even have one.

“But your face is still cold.” Mingya licked Lei Jin’s chin, pleading softly. “Mingya isn’t cold at all. Let me stay a little longer?”

Lei Jin reached up to touch the back of Mingya’s neck—damp and freezing. After a pause, he patted his head and threatened, “Get up, Mingya, or I won’t let you follow me anymore.”

Grudgingly, Mingya rose, nuzzling Lei Jin’s neck one last time before taking off with obvious reluctance.

Lei Jin nearly lost his temper, fists clenching and unclenching as he resisted the urge to smack Mingya’s forehead. The kid seemed simple-minded—the type who’d help count the money after being sold—but when it came to taking advantage of Lei Jin’s soft spots, he was anything but stupid. Especially on this journey, where his acting spoiled had escalated to new heights.

“Can you even handle three?” Lan Qi, who had surfaced unnoticed, propped his chin on his hand, watching with amusement.

Lei Jin found the question oddly familiar. After a moment, he realized Berg had asked the same thing. These two really are a match made in… somewhere.

“You could always try it yourself,” Lei Jin quipped, raising an eyebrow with a roguish grin.

“No thanks. Berg alone is enough to drive me mad. Add one more, and I’d lose my mind. Besides, if I ended up with someone like you, I’d die without even knowing where to dig my grave.” Lan Qi gave Lei Jin a once-over, his gaze dripping with disdain. His first impression had been spot-on—this person was nothing but trouble. Just look at what he’d done to his poor werebeasts.

Lei Jin blinked, then feigned offense, touching his ear dramatically. “Me? What’s wrong with me? A high-quality hunk like me—meeting one in your lifetime is a blessing. And you dare complain?”

Lan Qi turned away silently, his lips twitching uncontrollably. After meeting Lei Jin, he realized he’d been a humble and prudent guy all along.

The whale dove beneath the waves, seawater rushing over them. At first, Lei Jin had been fascinated, but after swallowing the pearl, it felt no different from being on the surface. The underwater world was dimly lit, schools of fish darting past. Twice, they encountered sharks, but before Lei Jin could even muster fear, the predators fled in a panic.

A sudden thought struck Lei Jin. He nudged Lan Qi with his elbow, expression grave.

Lan Qi tensed, assuming something was wrong. “What happened?”

“I just wanted to ask—if this pearl makes me waterproof, how am I supposed to bathe?” Lei Jin frowned. Being permanently waterproof sounded like a nightmare. It’d rob him of one of life’s few pleasures.

Lan Qi stared at him blankly, too exhausted to even twitch. You’re a female, and I’m a male merfolk. Have you no sense of propriety? None at all?

“Maybe I can spit it out when we reach shore and return it to you.” Lei Jin mused aloud. “But how do I spit it out? Got any ideas, Lan Qi?”

This time, Lan Qi didn’t bother responding. He plunged back into the sea, swimming far away before stopping to bang his head against a nearby reef. What kind of deity sent this person to torment me? That pearl was his life-core—even if Lei Jin could vomit it up, Lan Qi couldn’t take it back. Instead of worrying about such nonsense, why not focus on the dangers ahead in the forbidden area?

Once Lan Qi was gone, Lei Jin glanced up at Mingya’s shadow on the water’s surface, his gaze turning somber. As a school of fish brushed past, he discreetly sprinkled the last of his sleeping powder onto a roasted rabbit leg.

He’d never been to the forbidden area, but he knew it was no paradise. Surprisingly, Lan Qi was familiar with it too—calling it the “Forest of Reincarnation.” According to merfolk legends, the Forest of Reincarnation on land and the Abyssal Sea near the golden merfolk tribe were the two most mysterious places on the continent. Those who entered never returned, so no one knew what lurked in their depths.

After much deliberation, Lei Jin refused to let Mingya risk it. Leaving had been his choice, so if anything happened, he alone would bear the consequences. Persuasion? Useless. The only option was to knock Mingya out and have Lan Qi return him to the tribe.

Thanks to Lan Qi, their sea journey was relatively smooth. Most of their time was spent traveling, stopping at islands at night to rest and replenish water. Twelve days later, half-frozen but alive, they skirted the Abyssal Sea and reached shore. Lan Qi explained that the Abyssal Sea and the Forest of Reincarnation lay on the same latitude—as long as they didn’t lose their way, heading straight inland would lead them to the forest.

A minor incident occurred when they encountered a group of golden merfolk returning from a hunt. They surrounded Lan Qi, expressions a mix of fear and anger. The tension dissolved only when Lei Jin produced a knotted rope Berg had given him. The merfolk’s faces lit up at the sight, though Lei Jin had no idea what the knots signified.

Lan Qi’s expression, however, didn’t look too pleasant.

Delayed by the encounter, they reached shore after dark. Lei Jin found the cave where he, Xiya, and Moya had once stayed. Though others had clearly been here since, the cave remained largely unchanged. A thick layer of hay still lined the eastern side, though dampness had rotted much of it.

This must have been where it happened. Where the child had been conceived—without him even realizing.

Lei Jin pressed his lips together, stubbornly turning away. It’s over. It’ll all be over soon.

“Lei Jin, Mingya will go find food and fetch water.” Mingya approached, taking Lei Jin’s hand. His youthful face was bright with innocence, his smile radiant.

“No need. It’s too dark and cold outside. We still have food in the basket, and the merfolk gave us seafood. There’s water in the bamboo tubes too—we’ll go tomorrow.” Most of their rations had gone untouched, thanks to Lan Qi’s fishing.

Lei Jin rummaged for broken pottery in the cave, building a makeshift rack with branches. He boiled seafood and dried meat in one pot, reheating the rabbits over the fire.

The seafood carried just a hint of spice, tolerable for both Lan Qi and Mingya. The rabbits went entirely to Mingya, who soon fell asleep against the cave wall.

As Lei Jin repacked the basket, he set aside the remaining rabbits for Mingya.

“Lan Qi,” he said calmly, though his gaze carried undeniable weight, “no matter what happened in the past, take Mingya safely back to the Leopard Tribe, and we’ll call it even.”

“But he doesn’t seem willing.” Lan Qi poked the fire with a stick, flames flaring to illuminate the cave.

Lei Jin turned to see the sleeping boy, two glistening tears trailing down his cheeks.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

“Do this for me.” Lei Jin looked away, as if afraid he’d change his mind, and strode out of the cave without pause.

“Even if I owe you, why should I listen?” Lan Qi dusted his hands, watching Lei Jin’s retreating figure vanish into the darkness. Lei Jin, I’m starting to wonder—which version of you is real? This is getting more interesting by the minute.

If you would like to show some ♡  then please consider supporting this translator! ლ(⌒εー)ლ